


Second Chance

by kookaburrito



Category: Glee
Genre: Awkwardness, Boss/Employee Relationship, Denial of Feelings, Fluff, M/M, One Night Stand
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-25
Updated: 2017-06-03
Packaged: 2018-03-15 05:07:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3434702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kookaburrito/pseuds/kookaburrito
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What do you do if your new boss at that job you really wanted turns out to be the man you randomly hooked up with a few nights ago?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The boy on the dance floor.

The flashing lights, the thumping of the heavy music, the glass with melting ice in Kurt’s hands. Another. So many people.

The boy keeps his arms up, swaying his hips to the rhythm. He looks so young. Kurt wonders if he knows what it means, if it’s even true, the thing that Elliot told him on his first night clubbing in New York: that all the bottoms keep their hands linked over their heads to let other guys know they’re available. He can’t stop staring, right at the boy. Imagining what would it be like, if he were to take him up on that silent offer. Curls near his temples. Sweat on his neck. He lifts up his head, and… Dark eyes piercing right into Kurt’s soul.

Another drink, something with whiskey. He hasn’t done it in so long, hasn’t gotten recklessly drunk. Not since… Not since Adam. But it’s been more than five years, and now Adam is engaged. And Kurt found out through Facebook, of all places. The whiskey burns down his throat. 

He gulps the rest of it down, swallows every last drop of liquid courage, and doesn’t let his hands shake when he makes his way across the dance floor, feeling excitement and fear pulse in his chest as he pushes against the writhing young bodies, his hot gaze not once leaving the boy’s. 

Tonight Kurt doesn’t give a damn about waiting. He’s going to get what he wants.

* * *

Blaine is nervous. Truthfully, he’s been nervous for a whole week, since the call that confirmed his appointment for the job interview at Vogue. If he doesn’t blow it… The priceless experience he would get, hell, even just the prestige of working for such a famous name. All those years of sheer investment in men’s fashion would finally pay off. Not to mention that with a salary like that he could afford to rent the apartment without his parents’ help.

Anxiety was already claws-deep in Blaine’s gut when he stepped out of the elevator and approached the secretary’s desk. 

“Hello, I’m Blaine Anderson, I’m here for the job interview,” he said as politely as he could, at the same time scanning the woman’s outfit, out of habit. Soft silk blouse with tiny leopard paw prints, monochrome but interesting scarf, earrings shining like stars in the contrast of the night sky of the jacket and her dark skin, nothing less that he would imagine from a man like Kurt Hummel. He wondered briefly if the boss chose the perfume too.

“Please, have a seat. Mister Hummel will see you in five minutes,” the secretary said. She managed to sound intimidating and welcoming at the same time. That was probably part of the image too.

Blaine sat down trying to make as little noise as possible, then nervously swallowed a lump down his throat, stroked his hands over the pants he has ironed so carefully that morning. He noticed the little creases he overlooked near the pockets, and his palms began to sweat where he curled them into fists. He’s barely out of college, he’s 22 for God’s sake. What does he think he’s doing here? He only has a couple dozen sketches, silly things, just a college degree up his sleeve without any experience.

There was only one thing that kept the hope fluttering in his chest. He has been reading Kurt Hummel’s articles and memorizing his designs since he was in high school. He knew the man’s style like the back of his hand. Blaine would be lying if he said that Kurt Hummel’s bold fashion choices, his confidence, his assertive creativity didn’t shape his own style – didn’t give him that shove he needed to get away from the adolescent fear of being misunderstood, misjudged, frowned upon. Those were dark times, but Blaine found strength in music and books, movies and theater, in poetry and beautiful things, and of course in fashion. Perhaps, to some extent, he owes at least a piece of his own life to Kurt Hummel.

Blaine shook his head, trying to regain some focus. He wouldn’t get the job simply by being sentimental. The secretary stood up and made her way to open the door of Kurt Hummel’s office. The sound of her heels resonated against the floor like gunshots.

Blaine stood up too, self-consciously touching the creases near the pockets of his pants. It’s now or never.

He mouthed a ‘thank you’ to the woman, not because he intended to, but because his throat was suddenly too dry to form any sounds, and took his first step inside Kurt Hummel’s office.

As soon as Blaine came in he saw a man standing by the window. He looked tall and slender, the shape of his jaw somewhat familiar. In a second that felt like an eternity, he turned to face Blaine, and Blaine’s heart dropped.

He would recognize those eyes anywhere.

Also, there is no way he’s gonna get the job.

* * *

Blaine was kissing down that delicious neck, the heavy masculine cologne going straight to his head. They were still trying to dance, but it was proving to be harder by the minute. He loved the man’s hands on his back, touching him, enveloping him tightly, making Blaine feel hot and wanted.

Maybe it was the general excitement of the club pulsing in his veins, the thrill of danger, but Blaine didn’t hesitate once to wrap his own hands on the man’s neck and lick his lips in obvious intent, getting impossibly closer to the stranger. He was absolutely gorgeous.

Not once Blaine has felt like this in a club, and he was glad he came. He needed to get the nervousness out of his system.

They kissed for what felt like a lifetime, still swaying to the music, but growing desperate with each passing song. Kissing was easily Blaine’s favorite thing, and he hasn’t done it in so long. Kissing was simple and fun and pushed all the other thoughts away. He loved the little desperate noises coming from both of them, the hot slick slide of their tongues, the man’s teeth playing with Blaine’s lower lip, his nails digging in Blaine’s sides. There was heat pooling in Blaine’s belly. They were not trying to dance anymore.

“Wanna go to the back room?” the man asked, his voice high, his breath hot and heavy in Blaine’s ear, as Blaine kissed that soft spot between jaw and neck, sucking on the skin a little.

There was no hesitation. It was reckless, but it was what Blaine needed tonight. God, who was he kidding? He would’ve said yes to this guy on any other night too.

“Yeah,” Blaine nodded, both of his hands sliding down to clutch at the man’s shirt: something designer, truly. However, in that moment Blaine didn’t care for clothes. The lust must have made him crazy if he suddenly stopped caring for clothes.

Soon he was pushed against a wall, and he forgot about everything but the man’s hand sliding over his thigh and his mouth kissing Blaine like the world was ending.

* * *

“And what experience do you have?”

Kurt Hummel’s voice was even, steady, and Blaine was shaking.

Experience. Right.

“I…When I was a student in college, uhm, I was often in charge of costume design for the plays of-of the theater events,” it was so difficult to concentrate and form a coherent sentence under that scrutinizing unblinking gaze.

Did he not remember what happened two nights ago? 

Blaine knew he did, he did because of the way his pupils widened, when their eyes first met. He knew from the way Kurt bit his lip, from the faint blush that was tinging his neck, from the firm grip of his hand, the same grip Blaine still felt on his hip from the last time that hand touched him. Blaine knew, as soon as he saw Kurt adjusting the collar of his shirt as they sat down opposite each other.

“Could you show me?”

Blaine blushed, mouth falling slightly open. Show him…

There was sudden tension and Kurt Hummel gestured towards Blaine’s bag, “Your work. Your designs.”

“Of course,” Blaine managed not to stutter as he handed his folder of sketches to the boss.

The way Kurt Hummel was looking at his drawings made him shiver. Cold as stone. Blaine might as well start filling in that application for a job at Starbucks.

* * *

“So… uhm I fucked a freshly graduated college student,” Kurt confessed, gulping down his fifth glass of wine. Or was it the sixth?

Mercedes and Jean Baptiste shared a glance.

“What did you just say?” Mercedes put her chopsticks down.

“It sounds like something I would say, but it was definitely his mouth moving,” Jean Baptiste furrowed his eyebrows.

“And the most awful thing is,” Kurt stared at his container of thai chicken noodles, as if he hadn’t heard his friends, “He was the guy that came for the interview on Monday.”

“Elvis on a bike, that’s seriously fucked up,” Jean Baptiste whistled, gripping the remote control to turn the tv off.

“Honey, you gotta tell us more than that, if you want us to help you,” Mercedes whispered, glaring at Jean Baptiste.

“I… It just happened.” 

“Since when do you, uhm, fuck? Or even use the word?” Jean Baptiste asked. He was drinking for an hour now, and his sense of tact and general filter was slowly decreasing, if not completely turned off.

Kurt sighed. He was seriously feeling awful, so awful that he couldn’t even come up with a snarky remark to shut Jean Baptiste up. He filled another glass to the brim, avoiding to look Mercedes in the eyes. He couldn’t stand seeing her pitiful expression whenever they started talking about this. But still, he was hurting, and he needed to get it off his chest. The wine seemed to loosen up his tongue.

“Adam got engaged. I know you know, you’re friends on Facebook too. And that’s how I found out, right. Through Facebook. I hate him for not telling me, like I’m just a nobody, just some stranger.”

“You broke up with Adam five years ago, sweetcheeks,” Jean Baptiste said, sounding more diplomatic rather than accusing.

“I know.”

“You didn’t even talk to him for the last three years or something.”

“Yeah.”

“It was _you_ who broke up with _him._ ”

“True,” Kurt said, voice turned into such a whisper Jean Baptiste barely heard him, “That doesn’t mean that it’s less painful.”

Lowering his eyes, Kurt gazed in his empty glass. Utterly empty, like the life he’s been living. 

“Kurt, you know that if you need us we’re always here for you,” Mercedes reached down to hug him from behind, her softness and warmth making Kurt feel even worse. She enveloped her arms around Kurt’s neck for the rest of the evening, while the three proceeded to watch Project Runaway.

He sat watching too, and though his head was pulsing with the same thoughts over and over again, he didn’t tell them.

_I’m scared, I’m so scared I can’t breathe sometimes._

_I’m scared I’ll end up alone because I’m a stuck up bossy bitch who pushes people away, and no one will ever be patient enough to wait for me to open up. And I am a truly horrible person, cause now I’ve fallen so low I even randomly fucked a barely out of college kid._

* * *

“God, you’re gorgeous,” Kurt mutters, peppering the boy’s jaw with kisses.

He could say he was getting so worked up because he hadn’t had sex in so long, but the truth was that he had never had sex that felt like this, so dangerous, so thrilling and completely anonymous. Besides, the boy was something out of a dream. Kurt was kissing those pouty lips, while his hands tried to touch every inch of that body, commit it to memory. The boy was desperately kissing back, drowning the sexy noises that escaped him in Kurt’s mouth.

He moaned as soon as Kurt, somewhat awkwardly, lifted up his shirt and reached for his lower belly, the boy’s hips shooting forward like he couldn’t help it, like he melted under each of Kurt’s touches. He looked positively gone, pupils wide and black, flushed and sweaty all over as if he was drunk or high, and Kurt just had to ask, suddenly cautions, whispering into his ear, “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” the boy exhaled, his hands digging into Kurt’s biceps so hard it hurt, “Please.”

Within seconds Kurt’s hand was in his pants and he was jerking the boy hard and fast, so roughly, to the thumping rhythm of the music.

* * *

Sam was gorging down the salad-fries-burger combo at the diner so quickly Blaine was sure he might choke at any second.

“So then what happened, dude?” he managed to squeeze between the bitefuls of burger.

“And then he said they’d let me know,” Blaine replied.

“That’s classic, bro, they always say that to me after I go for modeling jobs and then never call me again. You know what, just screw them! If they don’t appreciate yo-”

“Sam! Stop,” Blaine sighed, taking out an envelope from his bag with trembling hands, “They send me a letter.”

“What? Why didn’t you open it?”

Blaine traced the word Vogue on the envelope with his thumb. Behind his stoic mask he was positively panicking. Inside of this envelope was his fate, his big chance, and he absolutely couldn’t open it.

“Can you open it for me?”

“You okay bro? You should know, it’s just a job,” Sam reached for the envelope, but Blaine swatted his hand away, shaking his head. Sam rolled his eyes and wiped his hand on a napkin, then reached for the letter again.

“I just… Really want it,” Blaine’s voice broke down a little bit, his heart was thumping. He didn’t know why he was so nervous. Surely, if he didn’t get this job, he’d go looking for another one. But it wouldn’t be the same. This is the only job he truly wanted, since forever, plus it’d be the only chance to work for such a prestigious name.

“Okay, I’m opening it,” Sam said, then skimmed the paper, “Bla-bla…Mister Anderson… Yeah, you got it,” he said, handing the letter back to Blaine and immediately shoving a handful of fries into his mouth.

“Sam! Don’t joke about someth-”

As soon as Blaine saw the word ‘accepted’ his heart swelled so big it could’ve exploded right inside his chest. Oh god, he was going to work for Vogue! For Kurt Hummel! 

Yeah, right, about that…

Looking at the tiny piece of paper, Blaine remembered the same Kurt Hummel who was now his boss, pushing him against a wall in a dark nightclub, recalled the lust in his beautiful eyes. 

Blaine swallowed a lump down his throat. It would be impossibly hard, but he will have to find a way to deal with that.

* * *

“And you decided to hire him?”

Elliot’s eyebrows rose high enough for Kurt to understand his opinion on the whole matter.

“He’s a talented kid,” Kurt replied, picking up a random album from a pile in the music store.

“A talented kid with whom you had dirty relations in a club,” Elliot was clearly trying not to smile, “Are you now… planning on taking advantage of your higher status at work for other benefits?”

“What? What the hell, Elliot?” Kurt puffed out indignantly, “I wouldn’t even think of doing anything like that! It’s just an awkward coincidence. I just feel like it might be embarrassing at first, but I’m seriously more classy than that.”

“Is he?” Elliot was full on grinning now and Kurt suppressed the urge to shove him into a stand with guitars.

“I will be mature and responsible enough for both of us,” Kurt declared, but he knew he was blushing, hell, he never blushed. What has gotten into him? On the other hand, he has never slept with anyone besides Adam, so he didn’t know what the protocol for one night stands was.

Elliot hummed something, and returned his attention to the electric guitar.

Maybe he should talk to Blaine about what happened, to make sure that he’s okay and they’re on the same page? But at the same time, why should he? It was just a one night stand. Not even a night-stand, just something like an hour-stand. And most importantly, Kurt wouldn’t even know how to initiate such a talk. It would be terribly awkward and he might actually die in the process, so maybe it was better to pretend that the whole thing never happened.

He felt something bubbling in his chest, something his therapist told him. About love and being vulnerable and empathy. Considering the other person’s feelings? Kurt felt like he needed to explain Elliot right now, but he didn’t know how to say what he felt. He took a deep breath.

“I’m telling you, this Blaine kid is going to go far. He has integrated elements of my style with his unique perception, and some of his outfits are plain crazy, but that’s exactly what we need. I don’t want a copy machine in the office, I need someone young and enthusiastic who understands me, and I feel like he will be a breath of fresh air. He has the skills we need.”

“Also he managed to get you to break your celibacy oath, that is seriously some skill he has,” Elliot said, it was meant to be a joke, but Kurt could sense that there was more to that. Elliot has been there through the whole Adam period in Kurt’s life, and the single era after that.

“Adam is getting married soon. I might as well start to live my life,” Kurt stated, fishing out a record of Nina Simone from the pile. He looked at it fondly. Her bright talent has got him through some very rough times in his life.

“Okay, listen, Kurt,” Elliot’s tone of voice was already alarming, “I don’t want you to screw around just to feel wanted and wholesome again,” Elliot said quietly, and there was so much sweetness in those words that Kurt couldn’t stand it.

“Gosh, Elliot, you’re not my freaking mom, okay?” Kurt felt sudden anger bursting inside of him like a chain of exploding fireworks, “I just hooked up with him. It felt good, and it kind of helped me with the Adam thing. I’m not going to become the next slut of Manhattan, jeez.”

After the whole speech that he managed to get out in one breath, he noticed that the store clerks were looking at them with more judgment than usual. Elliot was suppressing a laugh and Kurt felt the anger dissipate. He grabbed the Nina Simone record and made his way to the cashier.

When they were leaving the store, Elliot turned to him, “I am kind of your mom.” 

“I know, I know.” There was no way Kurt could still be mad at this dork.

“Plus your dad is hot,” Elliot winked, linking his arm through Kurt’s, and in return getting a powerful eye roll.

* * *

“You’re so hot,” Blaine mumbled in the man’s ear, still trying to catch his breath.

There was come on both their bellies and the whole situation felt surreal.

He stared in the man’s beautiful eyes, at the high blush on the man’s cheeks and neck, and without thinking leaned closer to taste it with his lips. It was a strange thing to do, especially when their shirts were still unbuttoned and the zips of their pants open, but Blaine for some reason really wanted this. He gently kissed over the man’s cheek and jaw down to his neck. He wanted to bury his hands in that soft-looking hair but thought that this would definitely freak the man out.

Indeed, the man seemed speechless and lost in his own world, until he closed his eyes and surrendered to Blaine’s soft butterfly kisses just below his ear. His hands were slowly sliding down Blaine’s arms, lower and lower down Blaine’s forearms and Blaine knew that as soon as they reached his hands the man would let go and this will be the last time they touched.

He kissed the man’s lips softly, and suddenly there was a burst of laughter as a group of people appeared to their left and quickly passed them. 

It was as if the glass case which kept them safe shattered and the man’s eyes widened in horror.

His mouth opened like he wanted to say something, but it closed as quickly, and he rushed away without a word.

“Wait!” Blaine yelled, trying to catch up on him in the darkness and simultaneously zip up his pants.

Not until he was outside in the freezing-cold of the night, Blaine realized that he didn’t even ask for the man’s name.


	2. Chapter 2

So, working for a personal hero who also happens to be one’s one-night-stand gay bar superstar is turning out to be awfully difficult.

Blaine doesn’t know how to act. He tries to do his best, as always. He proposes new designs, he sketches nonstop, he arranges events, his mind is full on work and most of the time he barely gets an acknowledgement. 

Mason and Madison tell him in unison that Kurt Hummel’s heart is made of stone, and Blaine shouldn’t take it personally. Roderick admits that he thinks it’s good, that it’s the attitude of a professional, a tactic to bring out only the best in employees. Jane throws him sympathetic and reassuring glances. But actually it’s just maddening.

Not to be confused, Blaine loves his job. He likes the team he works with. He loves creating new clothes and learning new things about one of his many passions.

But it’s incredibly hard because Kurt Hummel acts like he’s the best. To give him credit, he’s right most of the time, and especially when he shoots down ideas. It takes a glance for him to improve something Blaine has thought about for a whole day, and most of the time Blaine doesn’t even know if he’s doing a good job.

It’s frustrating. And on top of it all, Blaine can’t seem to keep his eyes off his boss.

He knows that it’s not a good thing. More than two months of work, and Blaine can still feel the buzz in his fingertips, the swirling want in his body whenever he notices Kurt walk by. 

When he was printing invitations for another gala event and staring at the name Kurt Hummel printed in a neat cursive on the bottom of the envelope, like some lovesick teenager, he would remember those passionate kisses. When Kurt loosened his neckerchief after a long day of work and reveal more of that delicious neck, Blaine would immediately lose all concentration for the work on his sketches, and would end up biting at his own lips until they were cherry red, looking almost kiss-swollen. It felt so good, kissing the column of that neck. God, he wanted him. Kurt was gorgeous, and Blaine was only human. Human and severely frustrated.

He needed to get a grip on himself. If Kurt could forget about him that easily, why couldn’t Blaine do the same?

* * *

It’s been a relaxing Saturday that he spent in the company of Mercedes, as her shopping chaperone, and now they were sitting down at a coffee shop, and Kurt was enjoying his guilty pleasure: hot chocolate with enough whipped cream to build a snowman.

“Thank you for accompanying me today, boo, I know you’re very busy with work,” Mercedes smiled at him.

“My pleasure, honey,” Kurt smiled back, “But yeah, it’s been an exhausting week. Even the hyperactive twins seemed to be worn out, and that’s saying something.”

“How’s the new guy then?”

Mercedes’ eyes are prying. Kurt hates that he has to avert his own gaze. He focuses on his drink, licks the delicious cream off the straw.

“He’s… fine. He’s fine. A great addition to the team.” He tries to sound as nonchalant as possible.

“That’s all you gonna say, after being so worked up about him?”

 _What am I supposed to say?_ An irritated voice asks inside Kurt’s head, but he shuts it off quickly. Mercedes deserves at least a little bit of truth.

“Sometimes I look at his designs after he goes away, and they’re very good. They’re colorful and bright, but in a very fresh way.”

And just like that, Kurt can’t bring himself to stop talking. He talks while they drink, and then after they go out of the café and stroll down the streets, and he talks as they pass by gorgeous displays in the shops, and as the evening lights fall over New York.

“Last week he proposed a new idea for a kids collection, and I swear, it was more adorable than that kitten video you showed me.”

“I love his old-fashioned style, I swear, that guy has a pocket watch! He goes around with a pocket watch. Who does that?”

“He gels his hair very heavily, which adds to the whole 50-s persona, but I think if he continues this way he’s gonna be bald by the time he’s thirty.”

Kurt suddenly realizes that they already arrived at their apartment. He awkwardly slides his hands over his jeans.

“So, yeah… He’s very sweet, the whole office adores him.”

Mercedes smiles, and Kurt knows what she’s about to say. He doesn’t want to hear it.

It’s practically written on Mercedes’ face, so Kurt, in an impulse to dodge a bullet, blurts out the first thing that comes to his mind. 

“I actually I think Jane has a crush on him! Can you believe that? Right…” 

“Oh geez, I wonder why,” Mercedes rolls her eyes fondly, and Kurt pretends for his own sake that he hasn’t heard her. He’s glad that she doesn’t comment any further, and busies himself with their shopping bags.

“Why don’t you wear that top we just bought with your jacket and I’ll tell you what earrings to add?” Kurt asks, fishing for the new clothes in their bags, feeling Mercedes watch him carefully, “We’ll make you look absolutely smashing for that date.”

“Okay, as long as we do the same thing for you sometime soon,” Mercedes ruffles his hair, and she’s the only person in the world that Kurt would allow to do that to him.

* * *

“And you never bothered to check what the Kurt Hummel you worshipped looked like?”

Harmony was sprawled on Blaine’s bed, eating pizza out of a box. Blaine was eating pizza too, but much more politely, wrapping each piece in a napkin and being careful not to get sauce on his fingers.

“Well, no, I didn’t. I don’t know why. I just, it sounds silly but I _saw_ him through his articles and looked at the clothes he designed. Maybe I was just scared that if I looked him up he’d be some bald man in his fifties with a hawk nose.”

“Does the real Mr Hummel adhere to the image you build in your head then?”

“God, he’s not what I imagined at all. But at the same time he kind of perfectly is, you know?” Blaine sighed, “His new designs are just… They’re everything, Harmony.”

He thought about the dark blue of the night sky and golden threads of the swirling stars on the clothes of their most recent fashion show. He thought about the scarves, the hats, the belts, about each detail that allowed him to see inside the heart of one Kurt Hummel, that exposed him with honesty to his inner beauty, delicacy and grace.

“You love him,” Harmony was no longer eating pizza, and suddenly was staring at Blaine with those wide eyes that landed her so many psychopathic killer roles.

“What? No, I… I just think he’s talented, that’s all,” Blaine shook his head, a little bit more forcefully than necessary.

Harmony raised an eyebrow, and Blaine bit his lip.

“Okay, maybe I love that he’s so straightforward, yes. Also, proud, and unapproachable, and beautiful…”

“You totally love him, Blaine, oh my god,” Harmony was still staring at him, and Blaine felt himself blush.

“Harmony, shut up,” Blaine’s cheeks were flaming now. 

Harmony just smiled, and then took out her phone and quickly typed something, and suddenly let out a loud whistle.

“Well, I don’t blame you, sweetie,” Harmony showed Blaine her phone, with dozens of Kurt Hummel’s pictures that popped up in google search, “Now I understand why you would totally want to get all up that booty.”

Blaine’s body freezes, and he forces a smile.

She doesn’t know it, she can’t possibly know. About what happened that night in the club.

As far as Blaine was concerned, only he and Kurt knew about it. 

Blaine wondered if Kurt remembered that night at least sometimes, if not as often as Blaine did.

They would be getting their coffee at the coffee machine in the office, and while staring at the black liquid and feeling Kurt’s presence near him with every atom of his being, Blaine would never know what he was thinking about. He hoped he knew, he hoped Kurt remembered that day too. Or was it a common occurrence for Kurt? Did he go to such places often? Maybe that’s why he doesn’t care about Blaine, because he’s one of a million.

He remembered Kurt’s cold, blue eyes, staring at him from across the table.

“And anyway, he totally hates me,” Blaine said suddenly, picking up a juice box.

“Why?” Harmony tilted her head, “He hired you.”

“But he never says anything, like at all!”

“Does he say anything about the work of others?”

“Well, not in so many words… But yes, he does! He often tells Jane he loves her style, particularly her fox tail, and praises the twins for always coordinating perfectly, and just last week I heard him tell Roderick that his new glasses are very sharp. He just, hates me, that’s all.”

Or maybe Blaine’s just starving, crazy, hungry, begging, for just a crumb of Kurt’s attention.

“I’m sure he doesn’t, Blaine,” Harmony said, placing a warm hand on Blaine’s shoulder, “You’re you, everyone loves you. There’s not a single professor at NYADA who wasn’t smitten with you, male or female.”

Blaine doesn’t feel too convinced, and he must look miserable, because Harmony’s voice is softer than he ever remembers it being.

“Just ask him. Just go up to him and ask him what the hell is his problem. He won’t be able to resist your puppy dog eyes. And anyway, I believe I came here to watch NYADA’s graduation concert and mock all my competition, and not to discuss your love problems, cupcake. I’m sure you’ll be allright.”

Blaine sighs. While he opens up his laptop, an idea has already planted its roots in Blaine’s mind. Harmony’s advice is not that bad, after all.

* * *

In retrospect, Blaine thought that he should’ve planned it a bit more carefully. Maybe chosen a better time, or came up with a more delicate way of phrasing it. Instead he found himself standing in Kurt Hummel’s office, right after he received the instructions for the next week’s event, and rather than politely leaving and letting Kurt do his work, he blurted out the question that has been bothering him since his first day of work.

“Do you… not like my designs?”

It came out more anxious and panicky than it should have, and Blaine internally cringed. He wanted to appear confident, demanding, and mature. Instead he was still the fumbling, inexperienced waste of space that Kurt probably believed him to be.

“Why?”

“You never say anything about my work.”

To Blaine’s surprise, Kurt seems to be taken aback a little, and replies almost instantly, locking his eyes with Blaine’s, “That’s because it’s good.”

And now Blaine’s embarrassed. It seems obvious to him now, that Kurt doesn’t hate him, that he’s just being a professional, that he’s clearly satisfied by his work if Blaine is still working – though hearing it, just a simple ‘good’ is immensely pleasing. He doesn’t know what to say.

“Oh, okay,” he says after an awkward tension-filled silence, finally breaking eye-contact.

Kurt doesn’t say anything else, so Blaine gathers his papers and slowly makes his way to the door. When he’s already on his way out, he hears Kurt’s voice.

“Trust me, if you weren’t good enough, you wouldn’t be on my team,” Kurt adds sincerely, and Blaine feels like his heart could burst.

* * *

“Elliot?”

“Yes, darling?”

Elliot is clad in a ridiculous apron and is cooking them something delicious, like he does on most Tuesdays when Kurt comes over. And Kurt, while obediently sitting at the table and peeling apples, suddenly thinks that this husbands roleplay sometimes goes a little bit too far.

“Do you think I’m too harsh?”

“Why do you ask all of a sudden?”

“It’s… Blaine. He came to me today and asked why I never say anything about his work.”

“Well, why don’t you?”

“I don’t know.”

Elliot is simultaneously stirring the sauce and marinating the meat and making garlic and cheese pull-apart bread. Sometimes Kurt thinks that they should make one of those pacts to marry each other by the time they’re 40 if they’re both still single. At least Kurt would never worry about satisfying his gluttony.

Despite all the cooking, Elliot still turns to him to raise an eyebrow and give Kurt his classic ‘don’t give me that crap’ expression. Ah right, that’s why Kurt will never agree to such a pact.

He thinks why he was avoiding Blaine, avoiding praising him.

“Uhm, probably, not to encourage him?” he finally admits honestly.

“Weren’t you the one who said you’ll be acting all mature and professional?”

“Yeah, well, I guess I just have no idea how to do it,” Kurt says, and cuts another apple in half a little more forcefully than necessary, “I’ve never found myself in a situation where I had to pretend I didn’t know a guy before and at the same time act like I need to know him.”

“Kurt, just stop overthinking,” Elliot brings a spoon to Kurt’s mouth, to let him taste the sauce.

“Needs more salt,” Kurt says, and immediately adds, “I can’t pretend that nothing happened, Elliot.”

“And why is that?”

“Because it meant something for me, it was important.”

“Well, avoiding Blaine won’t help your work,” Elliot finally turns off the gas and comes to the table, pours some wine both for Kurt and himself, “Kurt, you hired him. You thought he was good, but you clearly failed to tell him so, or even get to know him even a little bit. He can’t magically see inside your head, he doesn’t know what you’re thinking about. Plus he’s younger than you, do you maybe ever think about his side of the story? He must be scared shitless of you. So just talk to him, build some trust. And you know how important is honesty in any relationship, professional or personal.”

Kurt stays silent for a few minutes, sipping his wine and digesting the new information.

“Elliot, I swear to God, you’re the only sane person in New York,” he finally breathes out.

“True, honey, true,” Elliot clinks his glass with Kurt’s, “Now, do you wanna watch Toddlers & Tiaras?”

“I take what I just said back, you’re awful.”

“But you love me,” Elliot laughs.

“I have no idea why, but yes,” Kurt smiles.

* * *

“Blaine!”

“Anderson!”

Mason and Madison pop up from either side of him, and Blaine flinches.

“Uh, y-yes?” he was working on his project and didn’t expect them to appear so suddenly. He lifts his eyes and sees Kurt standing by the coffee machine, his back to him. His eyes must’ve developed some sort of disease called Kurt-magnet. God, Kurt’s shirt with the floral print suits him so much, it hugs him in all the right places. Those pants go really well with it too. He should probably stop checking him out.

“… collecting money for such a great cause! So if you could donate even a little bit it would mean a lot for us.”

Blaine shakes his head, and blushes, embarrassed that he just missed everything the twins told him because he was yet again ogling Kurt Hummel. He clears his throat.

“I’m sorry, which cause?”

“All or nothing! It’s a charity for pansexual and asexual awareness!” Madison explains happily, “It donates money to the shelter and to research institutes.”

“Oh.”

“I’m pan and Madison’s ace, so it would mean a lot to us if you could donate,” Mason adds quickly.

“Sure, of course,” Blaine’s already fishing in his bag for the wallet, when Madison suddenly asks.

“Are you queer too?”

With the corner of his eye, Blaine notices that Jane stopped drawing. Kurt is standing immobile too, and why is it so hot in this room?

“Uhm, gay. One hundred percent gay,” Blaine says, handing Mason a few bills. He avoids looking at Jane. Poor girl.

“Oh, wow, so do you have a boyfriend?” Mason asks, his voice suddenly a tad bit flirty, and eyes shining mischievously. Blaine can’t help but blush. God, he was never hit on in front of his crush slash one night stand who was also his boss, by a very oblivious boy. How does he even get himself in such situations?

“Mason, seriously? You look practically the same, it would be like incest!” Madison shrieks indignantly.

Kurt chokes on his drink. And in the uncomfortable silence of the room Blaine can hear Roderick laughing breathlessly, even though he had his headphones on the whole time.

“Anyway, thank you for donating, Blaine,” Madison turns to Blaine, and gives him a small bag of cookies and then sticks a big heart-shaped ‘All or Nothing’ sticker on his jacket.

“You’re welcome,” Blaine says politely, as Mason gives him an apologetic half-shrug.

After the twins leave the room, Kurt turns to Blaine, and with great shock Blaine notices that Kurt has two cups in his hands.

He approaches Blaine’s workplace and sits near him, handing a cup to Blaine.

“Oh, thank you,” Blaine says breathlessly, taking the cup from him, and feeling the press of their fingertips where they accidentally touched. He can feel Kurt sitting near him, so close, and his palms are sweating. It reminds him of that night at the bar and his brain is a little dizzy. Is this really happening?

“You always make me coffee, so…” Kurt says, somewhat awkwardly, then asks out of the blue “Anyway, how is… How are you adjusting at the workplace?”

Blaine is too shocked at this question, at Kurt avoiding his eyes, at his warm tone of voice. This is a new Kurt he hasn’t seen before, and Blaine is having trouble believing he is real.

“Everything’s wonderful. I’m so grateful to be working here.”

“Even with a team like that?” Kurt smiles and whispers quietly enough so Jane and Roderick don’t hear him. His tone is confidential, and Blaine momentarily forgets that Kurt is his boss. It feels like sharing coffee with a friend and gossiping about work.  

“They’re intense,” Blaine laughs briefly, “But I love all of them. I love my team.”

Blaine’s eyes widen as soon as he says it. Gosh, Kurt is part of the team. He’s the leader. Did Blaine just involuntarily said he loves Kurt? He can’t look him in the eye, and stares at his cup of coffee. His ears must be flaming. He doesn’t know if he wants this moment to last forever, or if he wants the ground to swallow him whole.

“Good, that’s good,” Kurt says finally, then stands up, and glances at Blaine’s design, “Keep up the wonderful work.”

Blaine nods. After Kurt is gone too, he takes his phone and types a message.

To: Sam

God, Sam you wouldn’t believe what just

Unsent

To: Sam

Mario kart after work? I need to beat you at Rainbow Road to know that the world didn’t actually change.

Soon his phone buzzes with a reply.

To: Blaine

sure, bro! I’ll order pizza

* * *

A week later Kurt found himself staring at the screen of his laptop with foggy eyes.

Being stabbed in the chest would probably hurt less than reading those words _“You’re cordially invited to Adam and Chandler’s Wedding”_. __

_It should’ve been me. I wanted the wedding, I wanted it all, since I was a kid. And Adam was so good to me, why did I have to go and ruin it all? For what?_

Hot tears were now rolling down his cheeks.

God, how humiliating.

After years of therapy Kurt knew exactly what had been the problem. Adam has been pushing, and pushing to get into Kurt’s walls, and instead of letting him in Kurt shielded himself from emotions even more. Adam was suffocating him. He was everywhere, at college, at home, at work and Kurt just needed to breathe. 

_Well, you got all the space to breathe now, you uptight idiot._

He has been the problem all along. 

A sudden knock on the door startled Kurt, he hastily tried to compose himself, but now that his heart was crumbling to pieces in his chest he knew he couldn’t do it.

“I was wondering… Oh.”

And of course it had to be Blaine. 

“It’s… Nothing. Blaine, I…” Kurt flinched, standing up abruptly, turning away, “Please go.”

Blaine didn’t move.

They both realized it at the same time, it was the first time Kurt ever said Blaine’s name.

“Maybe I can get you a tea, or a coffee?” Blaine asked hesitantly.

“No!”

Blaine flinched, and a deep physical pain shot through Kurt’s heart, hearing himself react like this. His whole face went red. Gosh, he can’t stop embarrassing himself. Why can’t he be nicer? Why can’t he be more open and gentle?

He opened his eyes, and to his surprise Blaine was still there, standing unsurely, but not going anywhere.

“I’m sorry, Blaine, I’m so sorry for yelling. I don’t usually -”

“It’s okay,” Blaine said, his voice barely a whisper.

“I am sorry. I’ll try to contain my emotions.”

“Maybe you already try too hard.”

It was something his therapist would say, only Blaine’s words were soft and caring. Kurt stared at him.

Maybe telling a complete stranger would be beneficial. Someone who wasn’t gonna look inside of his brain and analyze everything like he was a lab project and not a human with real emotions.

Suddenly Kurt realized how tired, how utterly exhausted he felt.

“Could you… Could you just sit here?”

Blaine closed the door, locking it, to Kurt’s relief, and then took a seat in one of the two chairs for the visitors.

“I’m… My ex is getting married,” Kurt breathed out. It felt surreal, confessing it out loud. He looked into Blaine’s big earnest eyes. It didn’t feel like a great weight lifted, but at least now Kurt could breathe a little.

“I honestly thought I was over it. I know it’s stupid to get so upset,” Kurt rubbed the palms of his hands over his tired eyes.

“It’s not stupid, Kurt,” Blaine interjected softly.

“I thought… I just, I believe in romance. I want it all, I want a beautiful wedding and a forever. I thought I could have it with him. I know it’s silly, I’m almost 30 now but…”

He looked up at Blaine, right his eyes, which were staring at him full of wonder. Staring like that time in the club, just after he came his brains out in Kurt’s hand. Blood rushed to Kurt’s face. Gosh, did he just confess to his one night stand that he was a silly romantic? Blaine must think he’s absolutely pathetic now.

“There’s nothing silly about romance, Kurt, and age doesn’t matter.”

Age doesn’t matter. Kurt felt himself blush harder. He took a deep breath.

“To be honest, even when I was in school I always daydreamed about my wedding suit. About the cufflinks and my tie and the possible choices for a boutonniere. About what kind of shoes I would wear.”

“I know,” Blaine smiled.

“You know?”

“I… I used to read your fashion column since I was a kid, your articles were very precious to me,” Blaine confessed.

His eyes were shining. Kurt was suddenly speechless.

“Your feelings are important, they’re valid.” Blaine interrupted his hurricane of thoughts, and his gentle tone combined the fierceness in those eyes made Kurt shiver.

Somehow, that was exactly what Kurt needed to hear.

They stayed silent for a moment, Kurt concentrating on his breathing, and wondering why this didn’t feel even a little bit awkward. 

“May I ask… Are you still in love with your ex?”

This question was completely relevant, and somehow Kurt didn’t consider it until this very moment.

“Uhm… No. No, not anymore. It’s been… Five years,” Kurt said.

“Oh.”

Kurt wondered if he heard relief in that tiny little _oh_. He looked at Blaine and found warmth in his eyes, and a flicker of hope.

“Kurt, I know it’s kind of… inappropriate and cliché for me to say this,” Blaine’s voice was so breathy, so scared and Kurt wanted to wrap himself in it, “But believe me, anyone would be lucky to have you.”

Kurt bit his lower lip. He didn’t know why talking to Blaine made him so vulnerable and speechless and emotional. He didn’t even know Blaine, but somehow there was a level of understanding and a powerful connection between them so deep that it was scaring him. He wanted to stay here for the whole day, just talking to Blaine.

“Thank you, Blaine. Seriously,” he hoped his eyes conveyed how much he meant it, “And also, if anyone asks, we were just deciding on the suspenders for Friday’s event. Everyone knows that suspenders make me emotional.”

“Understood,” Blaine smiled, and Kurt’s heart swelled with something new.

Opening his heart has never felt so safe and natural. Kurt wondered if he could get used to this feeling.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been 84 years but please forgive irresponsible wip writers!  
> I solemnly promise that I still plan to finish this fic :)

To: Harmony

Har, I finally got to talk to him! He was so sincere and open, so beautiful… I felt like a creep but I wanted to kiss him right then and there…  
I think I really am in love with him, like you said. Is that weird? Is it totally inappropriate?

Message: Unsent.

To: Wes

Hello Wesley! I’m sure you heard that Chandler, an underclassman and an estimated member of the Warblers, is getting married soon. What do you think would be the most suitable gift, from one fellow Warbler to another?

To: Blaine

The gift of song. But seriously, why the hell are you even invited to such things? Why does everyone like you? Wh

To: Blaine

Excuse me, Blaine, Jeffrey took ahold of my phone. I’m sure Chandler would appreciate a copy of the recording of our Regionals performance from spring 2011. Please give him and his husband our best wishes from all the Warblers. Sincerely, Wesley.

* * *

“Elliot, are you sure you don’t want to go with me?”

“I can’t, Kurt, you know I would love to be your pretend boyfriend at this thing, but I can’t, I have the gig that very day.”

“It would mean a lot to me if you could support me in this,” Kurt knew he was grabbing at straws.

“My performance means a lot to me too,” Elliot said, more firmly, and Kurt instantly felt bad for whining so selfishly, “Why do you even need to go? I don’t understand.”

“I need to go, because I need to be strong. I need to see him getting married and get over my past. I need to accept that I had been the problem and resume my life.”

The more he repeated these words inside his head and out loud, the more fleshed out and real they became.

“Well, in this case I think that going alone would be the biggest statement you can do,” Elliot shrugged.

Going alone?

When Kurt imagined himself going to the wedding, he always thought it would be with a piece of man-candy on his arm. He wasn’t desperate enough to invite Jean Baptiste, since Jean Baptiste was very intimately acquainted with at least half of the guests, regardless of gender. Elliot would have been a wonderful option, though, truth to be told, Adam would certainly be able to spot the fact they were just friends, however close, since Adam has known them both for a long time. He had other male friends, but no one he knew close enough to shamelessly beg to be his pretend boyfriend.

He thought about the guys he knew from work.

Going with… Blaine?

Ridiculous. Blaine is just a kid, it’s absolutely out of the question. Besides, he’s Blaine’s boss. Even though recently they started tentatively warming up to each other... Asking Blaine for something like this... That would be truly humiliating.

“I guess you’re right, I’ll have to face my demons alone,” Kurt admitted, and the idea suddenly didn’t seem that crazy.

“Kurt, you’re going to kill it. We’re gonna get you the perfect outfit,” Elliot assured him, and his smile made Kurt feel a little bit better, “And after you’re done showing everyone what the groom missed out on, you can come support my gig.”

“I will,” Kurt said, feeling sudden self-confidence pumping in his veins.

* * *

Kurt stepped out of the cab, and had to lower his sunglasses and give a double take to the Sunshine Plaza Royal Hotel, because this place was definitely way more luxurious than he expected. He couldn’t believe Adam afforded to book such a palace. He briefly wondered who was his soon to be husband, and imagined an old sugar daddy, lavishing Adam in expensive presents.

At least Kurt’s outfit was indeed amazing and appropriate for the occasion. Taking a deep breath, Kurt proceeded inside.

The inside was as splendid as the outside. A lot of the guests have already arrived, all of them dressed impeccably, and oozing money and power. Though he matched them in style, just looking at the chandelier and the tablecloths and the paintings on the walls, made Kurt feel intimidated and out of place.

He gave the formal invitation that arrived in the mail to the concierge and was welcomed to proceed to the enormous banquet hall for at least two hundred people and a splendid view on the garden, where supposedly the official part of the ceremony was to be held. When Kurt saw the encrusted spoons on the tables, he nearly lost it. He took out his phone as quickly as he could and found a quiet corner, dialed a number, because it was all he could do to prevent a panic attack.

“God, Elliot, I don’t think I can do this. I’m already here, and it’s so formal and rich…”

“Why are you whispering? Where are you?”

“They have encrusted spoons, Elliot! I’m getting out of here!”

“Kurt! Relax, breathe, honey. Chin up, back straight, show them who’s the man.”

“…And I swear to God, everyone has a plus-one, everyone! When I said I was alone I physically felt that concierge judging me,” though Elliot’s words were encouraging, Kurt felt his hands shake.

“You can always ask Jean Baptiste to be your pretend boyfriend, you know he’d love it.”

Yes, Kurt was panicking, but he wasn’t that lost.

“Okay, you’re right, I can do this.”

He turned to face the crowd and suddenly, he saw a dark-haired man approach him.

“Uh, hi Kurt,” the man breathed out, looking embarrassed and shy.

Kurt’s eyes widened, and he murmured, “Elliot, good luck with your gig, yeah? See you later. Bye,” before hanging up.

“Hello,” he replied, breathless, “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

Blaine seemed to be equally astonished to see Kurt. He looked amazing with a perfectly tailored suit and chic bowtie, his hair gelled even more than usual. Kurt briefly reminded himself to ask Blaine if he was a relative of Montgomery Cliff. He quickly snapped out of his thoughts.

“I’m kind of… friends with Chandler, so I assume…”

Kurt blushed.

“Yes, Adam is the… is…”

“Oh,” Blaine nodded, a little too forcefully then necessary, “I see.”

Suddenly, there was that awkward silence that stretched between them like fondue cheese. Kurt was desperately searching for a topic of conversation inside his head, that didn’t involve his ex boyfriend, the one-night stand, their weird confidential talk at work or just anything that seemed to tie them in that moment.

“So I…” Blaine started.

“You look amazing! Where did you get that bowtie?” Kurt said at the same time, and suddenly the tension seemed to lessen.

“Thank you, I made it myself” Blaine laughed, rubbing the nape of his neck, “You look as breathtaking as always.”

“Oh well, thank you. It’s kind of my job,” Kurt smiled, pleased. At least someone appreciated his efforts.

“So I was saying, uhm, I came here alone. I was supposed to come with my parents, because they’re friends with Chandler’s parents, but then their flight got delayed, and… Here I am, going stag. Do you mind if I tag along with you? I don’t feel like conversing with all of these obnoxious rich people without my parents as a shield.”

“Sure, Blaine, I’d love to have an ally at this thing. But tell me more about it,” Kurt whispered confidentially, “Is Chandler’s family in the mafia? Is yours too?”

“Well, if you consider Dalton Academy connections to be the mafia,” Blaine laughed, his eyes crinkling. The guests were slowly walking towards the outer garden, where the ceremony was about to begin, so Blaine stepped closer to Kurt as they proceeded to walk there too, “It all started in a faraway land of Westerwille, Ohio…”

* *

To Kurt’s immense surprise, Chandler was 8 years younger than Adam, and looked positively underage. As they were pronouncing the vows, Kurt’s breath hitched in his throat, but he was grateful that Blaine was right beside him and gently nudged his shoulder. It was such a simple gesture, but it made Kurt feel immensely grateful.

Blaine came to sit next to Kurt as his plus-one, because he wanted to avoid being mixed in with the guests from Chandler’s side. Blaine filled him in on the Warblers’ scandals, on the families that had feuds worse than Game of Thrones, and Kurt found himself enjoying the evening more and more.

Kurt didn’t know that a wedding could be so much fun. But still, he doubted that he could survive it without Blaine by his side.

It made him feel light in the head, thinking how compatible and free he feels with Blaine. He tried to brush the thought aside, leaning in to whisper in Blaine’s ear a snarky remark about a lady’s outfit and loving the way Blaine laughed and his cheeks turned pink.

* *

“Are you kidding me, Blaine? Breadsticks? That’s the thing you would opt to steal from here? You see nothing classier?”

“Tell me, Kurt, how on earth would you steal oyster soup?”

The wedding planners organized an enormous buffet table with delicacies from every part of the world, but somehow Blaine and Kurt only have eyes for each other.

“Oh my god, Kurt!” a sudden voice interrupts them, and Adam appears out of nowhere, “You made it.”

“Adam. Hi,” Kurt feels himself being enveloped in one of those hugs that he considered home for such a long time. Adam’s smell brings back memories, and Kurt is surprised that what he’s feeling is fondness and not regret.

“I’m so happy to see you! You look amazing. We haven’t seen each other in so long. We need to catch up!” Adam’s eyes are soft and Kurt actually sees that he’s sincere.

“I’m glad to see you too,” Kurt finds that he actually means it. He shakes his head, remembering his manners, “Congratulations on the ceremony. This is absolutely outstanding.”

“Your praise is of the highest value,” Adam says with a laugh, and then he’s being called by the wedding planner, “I’m sorry, I need to run, but I’m glad to see that you’re as happy as I am!” he shoots a very obvious pleasant smile to Blaine and nods, before going to run the errands.

In an instant, Kurt’s cheeks are flaming red, and Blaine begins to cough.

“So how about that oyster soup then?” Kurt says, grabbing two bowls in a quick movement, and ignoring the look Blaine gives him, a little hopeful, a little scared.

* *

Kurt agrees to leave the place after the cheesecake and before the crazy drunk uncles start to give their speeches. He’s glad that Blaine suggested they go, and now he has an excuse to leave early.

They both had a few glasses of wine each, so they’re not overly drunk, but Kurt feels adrenaline pumping in his veins. Though he wanted to get out of the wedding, he definitely doesn’t want this night to end so soon. When Blaine is about to hail a cab, Kurt stops him.

“Would you mind walking a little with me?” Kurt says, then adds, “If you’re not busy, that is,” feeling shy and awkward all of a sudden. What the hell, he’s 29, he should be the mature and responsible one in this.

“Sure,” Blaine agrees simply, smiling so that the dimples on his cheeks are visible, “Do you have anything in mind?”

Kurt smiles in return, “I might actually know a place.”

* *

It’s almost midnight, and they’re walking home, and Blaine can’t keep his eyes off Kurt. They bumped into each other at the wedding by miracle, it was like something out of a cliché dream coming to life, and then Kurt took him to his friend’s gig at a bar. He has never seen Kurt more relaxed and carefree, has never seen him smile so bright.

Though he was actually scared, terrified that being so much younger would ruin their time together, but Kurt didn’t leave him for a second, and even though he met up with some friends, and then introduced Blaine to Elliot and his band, not once he made Blaine feel like he was not welcome or inferior or just a colleague.

The autumn air is chilly and Blaine snuggles deeper into his scarf.

He has dreamed of a moment like this for the longest time.

He’s on cloud nine. He loves that they’re walking instead of taking a cab. They found out they live a couple of blocks away from each other, and not at all far from the bar Elliot played his gig at. They decided to walk. “It’s just a few blocks”, Kurt said. But it felt like he was looking for an excuse to spend more time with Blaine.

So engrossed in his thoughts, Blaine noticed that they have stopped talking. The silence is comfortable, warm. It is not the kind of awkward silence that settles between people who barely know each other, and in desperate need of filling with pointless chatter. Instead, it is pleasant.

He turns to Kurt, stealing a glance, and suddenly sees tears pooling in his bright eyes. Kurt catches Blaine looking and snuffles, awkwardly avoids meeting his stunned gaze.

“I’m sorry, it’s the second time you’ve seen me cry. You must think I’m so weak.”

“Kurt…” Blaine is speechless, he stops on his track and pulls at Kurt’s sleeve to make him stop too. He has to tell him, has to say everything he’s thinking right now. That he looked up to Kurt in high school and maybe Kurt was one of the reasons why Blaine didn’t commit suicide, because he was so strong and gave him so much strength too.

He cannot believe that Kurt would think of himself as “weak”. Instead of laying it all out, he braces himself and says, tentatively:

“No, Kurt… I would never think that. What’s wrong?”

Kurt turns around and just continues walking, rubbing at his eyes to keep himself from crying harder. What is wrong with him? He cannot explain it, even himself.

It’s that infinite sadness that comes when you are enjoying yourself a little too much. You do not know whether this feeling of happiness is real or not, whether it is going to last. You do not know if you can make this moment be the turning point of your life. All this pain that he has accumulated during his isolated years…

“Kurt, talk to me please,” Blaine stops him again, his voice firmer, a little more desperate. They are near the entrance to an apartment complex, there is a warm-looking 24-hour café nearby and a lot of people are wandering around. Kurt looks at them warily. Every word he says is like a stone he needs spit out from inside himself.

“I just… I guess there was too much that I kept bottled up during these years, and I just to need to let it all out. All the pain.”

Why is it so easy to tell Blaine things? It is the second time when he feels like he needs to open up to this gentle boy and his immensely deep, emphatic eyes, to his big heart and his soul. He cannot stop himself from saying things to Blaine, cannot stop this feeling that has been forming inside his chest ever since he first laid eyes on Blaine.

It feels like Blaine is going to see only the best in him, and accept him for who he is, no matter how unattractive Kurt will act or what he will say.

Blaine turns on his heels. He looks at Kurt, then at the entrance of the apartment complex.

“Kurt, you obviously need to talk. And this is my house. Why don’t you come up?”

He’s shy when he says it, because the phrase sounds so cliché. Blaine tries to sound mature about it, deliberately emphasizes on the word “talk”, but there is that hopefulness that Kurt has learned to distinguish by now. It is like a casual joke, a flirty remark, a risky chance – it leaves Kurt with the possibility of choice, hinting on Blaine’s desires but not giving them away.

And even though he’s standing at two in the morning with his gorgeous nice smart younger employee who he has had a one night stand with that neither party is willing to acknowledge, with the tension running high between them and his brain screams that this is immensely wrong, and he needs to say no right now, he does not know how.

“Yes,” Kurt says, cheeks flaring up, and follows Blaine through the door and in.


	4. Chapter 4

As soon as they are crammed into the tiny space of the elevator, Kurt feels the giant hammer of reasonableness hit him square in the face. They are drunk, he’s with an incredibly attractive boy for whom he may or may not have feelings, but that boy is considerably younger and his subordinate. And they are going up to his apartment. The elevator is positively pocket-sized and Kurt feels their arms touching.

“Okay this might not be such a good idea after all,” Kurt’s cheeks flare up as soon as he realizes he said it out loud. More like mumbled, but Blaine still heard him and is now flustered.

“It’s okay, Kurt, my roommate is in,” he says, barely audible. If that was meant to make the situation better, it did not work at all. Kurt can feel Blaine’s hands shaking slightly.

All of a sudden Blaine accidentally drops the keys to his apartment, and they both reach for them, and bump their foreheads.

They look at each other and realize how awkward they are acting, suddenly nervous for no reason at all, even though today was already bizarre enough. They have met by chance at a wedding they both did not want to go to, spend the evening listening to a band in a bar still dressed in suits and now are acting like teenagers.

The only way from here is to accept this situation and sail on the ship of weirdness, enjoying the journey.

Kurt feels it in his heart.

Everything is going to be all right.

Blaine smiles reassuringly while he gets off the elevator and steps to the door of his apartment, and Kurt realizes that he would rather be here with Blaine than anywhere else right now.

* * *

Blaine turns out to be a gallant host. Somewhat sheepishly, he brings Kurt his pajamas to change the uncomfortable formal clothes than Kurt has been wearing all day, and Kurt feels grateful. The pajamas are two sizes too small and show off his ankles and forearms, which makes him feel like he is back to kindergarten. Kurt avoids listening to the part of his brain that wants to analyze the fact that he is in someone else’s home wearing someone else’s pajamas. As soon as Kurt is settled on the couch, Blaine appears in his own pajamas, and busies himself with the hot chocolate.

What Kurt envisioned when Blaine invited him to come up was more wine and tipsy confessions and undone bow ties on the floor, but somehow this is much better.

Blaine does not pressure him to talk, and suddenly Kurt feels like the sadness is gone. It was a momentarily moment of weakness, and he’s glad that Blaine doesn’t think he’s weird. He feels so much better just from the hot chocolate and the coziness and the pajamas.

Instead of talking and oversharing, they end up watching old episodes of Gilmore Girls and laughing, and there is an ease that Kurt did not expect at all. Sometimes just spending some time together with another human being without the need to explain yourself or justify your actions is the most precious gift.

Kurt drifts off to sleep.

When he wakes up, there is a cute patched blanket over him. He has slept on the couch. The reason that he woke up was his phone that kept vibrating with messages from Mercedes and Jean Baptiste. They range from inquiring ones to positively panicky. Indeed, he totally forgot to text them last night and tell them how the wedding went.

Then there is that awkward situation that everyone gets into while on sleepovers. Jesus, what should Kurt do? Just lay there and pretend he’s still asleep? Or try to make breakfast? Or would it be too weird?

In the end he stares at his phone until he hears some noise from the corridor and then the sound of the running water, and it turns out to be Blaine who appears in the doorway. He is still in his pajamas, thanks god. It would be awkward if Kurt was the only one wearing pajamas at this point. Kurt blushes, as he unintentionally scans Blaine up and down. Nobody should be allowed to look this good early in the morning.

“Good morning, Kurt,” Blaine says, a shy smile on his face, “Why don’t you go freshen up, while I fix us some breakfast?”

Jesus, if that’s not something Kurt would like to hear every morning. He quickly brushes that thought away. Just friends. Friends? Colleagues. That’s what they are.

Blaine makes them breakfast – scrambled eggs and tiny pancakes with apricot jam. They eat in the kitchen, and somehow the conversation is light, as if they do this kind of thing all the time. Kurt feels incredibly comfortable, even though his reasonable side tells him that Blaine is his employee and all of this is beyond ridiculous.

“Oh, shit, am I interrupting something?”

Kurt turns around to see a blond guy in the doorway. He’s making awkward gestures and staring at him, and mouthing something to Blaine.

“No, Sam, I…” Blaine seems to have lost his cool a little, “This is uhm, Kurt.”

“Ohhh,” Sam says knowingly, and Kurt wants the ground to swallow him whole. What does that ‘ohhh’ mean?

Kurt can practically feel the telepathic connection trying to get enstablished over him, Blaine’s eyebrows developing a language of their own, and Sam’s brain not getting the message at all. Kurt practically feels Blaine panicking a little. All of a sudden Kurt becomes vividly aware of how young Blaine actually is. This age difference always escapes him, whenever they are alone.

“This is my friend from high school, Sam,” offers Blaine lamely.

“Nice to meet you,” says Kurt politely.

“Nice to meet you too,” says Sam, and he’s staring at Kurt as if he is some kind of art display at a fancy exhibition, “Well, I better be going then. Leave you two alone. If you know what I mean.”

_‘What does he mean?’_ Kurt thinks.

Sam’s out a little faster than necessary, he even trips on a pair of shoes, and Blaine sighs when he’s gone.

“Don’t pay attention to him,” Blaine says quickly to change the subject “Why don’t we just watch some tacky fashion show?”

And indeed, they watch some fashion channel that shows reviews of celebrities’ outfits over breakfast, and turns out they both love to trash talk the awful fashion choices.

Kurt is still laughing at some of Blaine’s most sharp comments when they leave Blaine’s apartment complex. This might be one of the best days he’s had in a while.

* * *

On Monday Kurt enters his office feeling like a king.

Everything is amazing. He is a successful head designer living in New York. He got over his ex. He works for Vogue. He can do practically anything. He can start a fashion trend if he wants. He has a million followers on Twitter. People love reading his advice column. People actually buy his clothes.

“Hi Blaine,” he says, as soon as he sees Blaine near the coffee machine.

Blaine looks kind of startled, but Kurt does not catch up on it.

“Uh, hello,” Blaine attempts to sound casual.

He only now notices that the other people in the office are looking at him a little more pointedly than necessary.

“Hi, guys,” he greets Mason, Madison and Rodrick.

Was it weird that he greeted Blaine separately? Hell, he just came in and saw him first, it shouldn’t mean anything right? And well, his mood is amazing and he did not want, for once, to overanalyze everything.

Humming a tune to himself, Kurt entered his office and walked straight to the desk. It was going to be a good day.

* * *

Blaine was having the worst day of his life.

He felt like karma was biting him in the ass.

He saw the article first thing in the morning, because Harmony linked it to him with a whole line of exclamation marks and question marks. 

It was entitled ‘Kurt Hummel’s New Accessory’. It was a trashy online website that liked spreading celebrity gossip, but for once the picture they posted to go with the text was not photoshopped. There was Kurt, in his expensive suit with the undone bowtie, and Blaine, walking out together out of Blaine’s apartment building. They were both laughing at something and looking happy.

Blaine’s heart nearly stopped. After the amazing weekend, after the magical evening with Kurt, after Kurt actually slept on his couch, he was facing this nightmare, looking at him from his phone screen.

He had no idea how Kurt Hummel would react. Would he be okay?

Were celebrity gossip blogs of any importance to him? Would this damage his reputation?

Would he just brush it off?

For the first time, Blaine did not want to go to work. He considered calling in sick, because he was actually feeling sick in his guts. However, not turning up for work would even be worse, as if he were to confirm the trashy rumors that he was actually sleeping with his boss. Which he wasn’t. Though he already did once. Which he desperately wanted to repeat. Which he shouldn’t even think about. Jesus Christ.

He walked into the office feeling like a hedgehog, ready to defend himself.

But reality was even worse than he imagined. Nobody accused him of anything, they just looked at him. Judging looks. Pity looks. Intrigued looks. They all looked like they knew.

And then Kurt waltzed in, not a minute after him, uncharacteristically chirpy and nice, as if everything was wonderful and amazing.

Blaine felt like hanging himself on his bright purple satin bowtie. He was not going to survive the day anyway.

* * *

It was Jean Baptiste, who brought him the worst news. Not surprisingly.

Kurt was just about to enjoy his lunch, when Jean Baptiste, who was looking at him with a strange expression the whole time, all of a sudden turned to him.

“So you’re not gonna say anything for the press? Not a thing? Zero?”

“Only that I’m Kurt Hummel and I’m running this city.”

“What?”

“What?”

Kurt looked at him questioningly, and then Jean Baptiste showed him the article.

And suddenly everything made sense. Blaine’s avoidance and how he dropped his cup of coffee, when Kurt called on him. Everyone’s judging stares. How people kept whispering and abruptly stopping whenever he walked into a room.

When he came back from lunch, that still weighed heavily in his stomach, he walked straight to his office and locked the door. Today Kurt did not want to see anyone, but his drawn models.

* * *

Mercedes poured him another glass of wine. It has been a long day and finally Kurt could feel like his head was buzzing less.

“Honey, I know you’re feeling bad right now,” Mercedes said like a mother would, “But all publicity is good publicity. At least everyone is talking about you right now.”

“I guess you’re right. I’m trending on Twitter,” Kurt added bitterly, showing her evidence on his phone.

“New York does not remember things, this piece of news will be old by next week, believe me. Everyone will forget and switch on the next thing.”

“Yes, but Blaine and I will not forget,” Kurt said quietly. 

It was the thing that was bothering him the most in this situation. Blaine was great. More than great, he was fantastic. Kurt really believed they could become friends. They spent the most amazing weekend together. They had a lot in common. Sure, their relationship was kind of complicated, but it was getting better. And now everything was back to awkward. Kurt sighed.

“Look, Blaine is probably even more freaked out than you are right now. He’s just a kid, he’s terrified. Just act casual, and he will understand that this fashion business is not all fun and games, once you get to a certain level.”

Kurt tried to imagine what was it like to be in Blaine’s shoes right now. Is he getting a lot of crap from the coworkers? He couldn’t be. The whole team adored him, especially Jane and the twins. Kurt was sure Blaine was going to be okay, he did not have a whole reputation to defend.

He took another big gulp of wine.

“Just be fabulous and classy until the shitstorm passes,” said Mercedes, and squeezed his shoulder lightly.

* * *

It happened on Friday night. 

Blaine missed two days at work after that awful Monday, as he called in sick. He just could not deal with it. Plus, because of the nerves he actually began feeling physically ill. Come Thursday, he finally gathered the strength to check in at work, but there was so much of projects piled up, that he could not complete all of them even by Friday. He decided to stay after office hours. It was not so bad, at least he would be the only one there, and people would stop whispering behind his back. Actually, it was not so bad, the people in his team were super friendly and tried to act casual, and the whole scandal was slowly unwinding, but Blaine still felt exposed and unsure. It would be good to get a couple of productive, quiet hours at work tonight.

He did not know that Kurt was there too.

Also, he tried not to think about Kurt, but it was impossible.

On Thursday Kurt acted like he did not know who Blaine was. He passed him by without even a hello. If he needed to give an urgent task to Blaine, he made sure to pass it through someone, just not to get into direct contact with Blaine. Mostly, he stayed locked up in his office, or went to business meetings outside.

Blaine was really annoyed. Kurt was supposed to be the mature one in the relationship. Also, Blaine really thought they were becoming friends. Such blatant avoidance was hurtful and only added fuel to the gossip fire. He could not believe that Kurt has not said a word to him since the article was published. Was he really that worthless that Kurt would throw everything that they were trying to build between them away just because of some stupid online article? Clearly, his career meant more to him than basic human relationships.

Blaine knew he was winding himself up. Another design was ruined, he pressed too hard on the outline. He threw it in the trash, and exhausted, sighed.

That was when he saw Kurt in the doorway.

He slowly turned his head to look at him, but did not say a word.

“I did not know you were still here,” Kurt said, his voice impenetrable.

“Yeah, well, I have to catch up on the designs for the award show,” Blaine replied, annoyed.

“Here are some tasks for the next couple of weeks,” Kurt said, and approached Blaine’s desk.

At that, something inside of Blaine snapped. Kurt just came in here to drop some work, because he thought Blaine wouldn’t be there. If he knew it, he wouldn’t have come with the tasks. Plus, they were not urgent at all, and that meant that Kurt was just making sure that there would be no connections between him and Blaine all through next week. 

Blaine felt fury rise up inside himself.

“What is your problem?!” Blaine’s sudden loud voice echoed sharply in the room.

“What?”

“Jesus, what is this… This childish thing?! I thought we were colleagues. I thought we were friends, even. I guess I was wrong.”

“We are, Blaine.”

“I don’t feel like we are anything.”

At that, it was Kurt’s time to snap.

“You saw the article! Everyone saw it! I just did not want you to feel uncomfortable, sorry for caring so much!”

“You do not care at all! You would have found a way to talk to me if you wanted! But you just do not give a fuck!”

“I’m here, we’re talking!” Kurt was shouting too, and it was terrifying.

“You just came to drop some work, so you wouldn’t have to face me for the next two weeks!” there were tears in Blaine’s eyes, and he knew he was red in the face, could feel the heat radiating from his skin.

“I’m sorry that I didn’t want the whole office, the whole city to know that we’re fucking!” Kurt dropped the chair next to Blaine, and came impossibly closer. Blaine was afraid Kurt was going to smash his computer.

“You wish we were!” Blaine shoot up on his feet, blood pumping in his veins.

They were standing up, facing each other, chests heaving and looking each other right in the eyes.

Kurt smashed his face against Blaine’s in an off-centered, messy, passionate kiss. Blaine responded immediately, as if his life depended on it, as if he would die if he were not to kiss Kurt right then and there. 

They were grabbing on each other’s clothes so hard the fabric was about to tear, grabbing for more skin, more flesh, more more more of everything. Kurt’s hands landed on the sides of Blaine’s face, pulling him even closer, kissing him deeper, dirtier, faster, hotter. 

Blaine was whimpering, gasping for air, his hands reaching for Kurt’s shoulders, his back, his delicious ass, grabbing it, cupping him in his pants.

“Want you,” Kurt moaned right into his ear, and with one movement send all of the stuff on Blaine’s desk flying down on the floor, even his work laptop smashed against the hard floor, and pushed Blaine on the desk, until he was lying down helpless, pinned down by Kurt’s weight.

“God, yes,” Blaine’s eyes were clouded with want. He could not think anything in that moment, he was pure anger, frustration and lust. He wanted Kurt more than he wanted air, more than he wanted anything in his life. He did not care for the whole world, he only cared for Kurt, on top of him, all around him, his scent, his breathing, his skin, his flesh, his hands, his lips and tongue.

He felt himself getting uncomfortably hard in his pants, felt Kurt’s thick cock pressing against him, and knowing that Kurt was so hard because of him made him flush even hotter, made his toes curl.

“Please…” Blaine was practically begging, he was on the verge of coming without having been directly touched. 

There was no time for condoms, lube, for any kind of preparation, there was no time for anything, because they wanted each other as quickly as possible. Kurt unzipped both their pants in one swift motion, and they pressed against each other, building a crazily fast rhythm, moaning and crying out and kissing each other messily, off-centered, desperate.

Blaine was coming, not even trying to be quiet, he trashed against the desk and in Kurt’s arms, feeling the electrifying pleasure getting to every cell of his being, shooting through every nerve. He did not even notice that Kurt was coming too, his face beautiful and broken inches from him. 

They both were coming down from the high, breathing heavily, their senses slowly regaining sharpness.

The whole situation, the enormity of it, the consequences, were crystalizing in front of Blaine, and even though just minutes ago he was unrestrained and powerful and free, now he felt sick and broken and hurt.

Kurt got up from Blaine and fixed himself up, still breathing heavily. He avoided looking Blaine in the eyes while he awkwardly collected the papers from the floor. He left the room without saying a single word.

At that, Blaine’s whole world collapsed right in front of him.

* * *

On Monday, Kurt found a resignation letter on his desk. Blaine Anderson was informing of his intention to leave Vogue.com on his own will.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello guys! I'm sorry for the angst in the last chapter & for the long wait. But this fic is finally finished! Can you believe it? I can't! Hurray! I'm sorry if it does not live up to your expectations, however I hope you enjoy. Thank you for reading <3

Blaine gave himself one week to gather his thoughts.

Of course, one week was not enough to get over the heartbreak he was feeling. However, he had to move on. It was clear that nothing was going to work between Kurt and him, and Vogue.com, however amazing, had to be left behind, as long as Kurt was the head designer there.

It did not matter. Blaine was confident that he would find another job, now that he had some experience working for this famous brand, anyone would be lucky to have him.

The residual anger that was pooling inside of him now gave him the confidence to move forward. Blaine had a lot of directions to move forward to. He was painfully aware of his youth and the benefits it provided.

He was not mad at Kurt for what happened. He was sad of how much he could not contain himself when it came to Kurt. Beautiful, shy, talented Kurt. He could not work for Vogue.com because he knew that just having Kurt near him and being unable to actually have him would break his heart even more.

In the end, it was Harmony, who helped him out. She had a lot of close connections with the theater people, and was doing shows off and on Broadway trying to get acquainted with the right people, who could elevate her talent to the right roles. It turns out, a lot of theaters were in a desperate need of a costume designer.

By the end of the next week, Blaine already had a new job.

* * *

Kurt and Elliot were having their usual Saturday morning stroll through the flea market. It was a cold morning, and Elliot asked Kurt to join him with the excuse that he needed a new mirror. Kurt knew that was a lie, because Elliot had like three mirrors already. He still made an effort to come.

“Okay, Kurt, I think it is your moment to mope,” said Elliot, when they were examining beautiful vintage lamps that costed less than the lunch they had half an hour ago at Starbucks, “Ever since Blaine left, you have been looking like shit. No offence.”

“Sorry Elliot, I know I have been moping a lot, and you were great at listening to me in the past, but I’m not gonna mope this time,” Kurt was looking resolute.

They passed a few beautiful ballerina dolls made of wood.

“How so?”

“It was all my fault that Blaine left. I keep screwing everything up, and I do not even know how I do it. I’m not gonna mope and blame everyone for what happened, because the asshole responsible for the mess was me. Blaine was amazing from start to finish, and I let things get out of hand. I miss him both at the workplace and as a friend. And maybe… More.”

There was a moment of silence, if it could be considered silence when there were vendors screaming their prices at the clients and the general confusion of the market all around them.

“It is refreshing to hear something so mature from you,” said Elliot sincerely, “I’m glad you’re working this out on your own, and taking responsibility for what happened. Now tell me, do you think I should get this pile of comics? It’s only five bucks.”

“Sure, but if you want it to be gayer, there’s Batman and Robin over there.”

“That is another mature thing that I did not expect to hear from you,” Elliot laughed, and Kurt joined in. It was a long time since he allowed himself to laugh.

* * *

At the office, things are back to normal. Kurt believes that everything is finally the way it used to be. At least no one is whispering behind his back.

He is having a blast designing the new collection with his team. Mason and Madison are full of fresh ideas, Jane adds the feminine touch they all need and Roderick is the best translator from idealistic to practical. 

“Good job, guys,” Kurt says, after a brainstorming session, and leaves the room to get to his office.

He realizes that he forgot to take his pen and turns back to the meeting room, until he suddenly feels a familiar name. His heart tightens painfully in his chest.

“I miss Blaine,” Jane sighed, “He was always so thoughtful. He brought an extra umbrella once, in case anyone needed it.”

“We miss him too,” Mason and Madison said in unison.

“Not everyone could wear a new bowtie every day and look so fashionable,” Madison added.

“And look so hot, you wanted to say,” Mason grinned.

“I wish he would just explain why he left. It all happened so suddenly, and Kurt never made an announcement or anything,” Jane sighed once again, “It’s as if a person can just disappear and no one will care.”

Abruptly turning on his heels, Kurt went back to his office.

He was not going to let this slide. He had been wrong. Maybe, he was not aware of all of his feelings, of Blaine’s feelings. Maybe he was afraid to deal with the situation. But he has hurt Blaine, that much was obvious, and he has hurt himself. Maybe Blaine hated him right now, but Kurt had to make amends, if not for Blaine, at least to give himself some peace and show that he was willing to take responsibility. 

He took a pencil and started sketching. He was going to do his best.

* * *

Blaine was playing Mario Kart with Sam.

It was one of those lazy nights that Blaine had missed a lot. Now he was working twice as hard, the job was tougher because there were clear deadlines and requirements for the theater costumes that he could not ignore. So getting a little time with his best friend was refreshing. But at the same time, he loved this job. Theater was something that has fascinated him since childhood, and now he got to see all the magic from behind the scenes, and even be a major part of the performance.

“Dude, let’s do Rainbow Road,” Sam said, an evil glimmer in his eyes.

“Okay,” Blaine said, his mind elsewhere.

Sam paused the game.

“Blaine, what is wrong with you?”

“What? Nothing. I’m just thinking about my job, sorry.”

“I said let’s do Rainbow Road and you didn’t even try to hit me with a pillow. Something’s messed up.”

“I know, sorry, there’s just a lot going on right now. We have this show that opens next month and the costumes are nowhere near ready…”

Sam took a bite of his pizza and chewed methodically.

“I think you’re thinking of your job too much lately.”

“Am I?”

“Yeah. Actually, I think you gotta think about some other stuff too.”

“Like what?”

Sam got up and went out, and soon returned with an envelope.

“What is this? Sam?”

“Look. I don’t know about everything that went down with you and the quiff guy, one moment you’re gushing about him, the other he’s here eating scrambled eggs, then suddenly you’re switching jobs, but I ran into him on a modeling job the other day. More like, he ran into me.”

“What do you mean?” Blaine’s heart thumped heavily in his chest.

“He gave me this, asked me to give it to you,” Sam said, and handed Blaine the envelope, “If it makes you feel better, he looked like shit.”

Blaine opened the envelope. His eyes widened when he scanned the content of the letter.

* * *

When the taxi stops at the address from the invitation letter, Sam lets out a whistle.

“I’ve been modeling for a few years now, but I never even dreamed that I could walk into this place, dude,” Sam says excitedly when they enter the building of the Royal Grand Fashion Palace, only the most famous venue for fashion shows in New York.

Blaine gives the invitation to the concierge, and he accompanies them personally to the front row. Even though Blaine has been to fashion shows, usually he sat somewhere behind or was running around doing errands. He never could fully appreciate the show as a spectator.

The lights went down and suddenly Kurt appeared center stage. It was the first time Blaine saw Kurt after the night in the office, and something swelled inside of his chest. Kurt was gorgeous. He had a particularly sharp suit with shiny silver shoes and silver cufflinks. The tie was spot on too. Blaine was surprised that he did not feel resentment or anger. He physically could not feel angry at Kurt for too long, no matter how hard he tried.

“Hello, ladies and gentlemen, welcome to this special fashion party.”

A round of applause and cheers lightened the room. Only now Blaine teared his eyes away from Kurt and saw just how huge was the venue.

“I organized this show, to let young talents shine bright, and let them know that their voices, their opinions, their thoughts matter. Even though they do not have the influences or the connections, they can still create art, that will shine through fashion. They can still make an impact. In fact, first, I would like to present you a collection that is particularly dear to my heart, as I designed it myself in the last few months. It was inspired by a certain young man, who has impressed me deeply in his purity and creativity. After this humble display, please enjoy the huge work of our aspiring designers from all around the country. Thank you for the attention.”

Sam elbowed him, and Blaine blushed deeply. Was all of this… because of him? For him?

The show was breathtaking.

With every model, with every dress, with every outfit, Blaine felt like Kurt was looking right into his soul. He saw elements of his style integrated with Kurt’s, he saw neckerchiefs and bowties, he saw skinny jeans and leather vests, skirts and dresses, scarves and gloves, and floral shirts, and a whole range of color and brightness and youth. He knew that Kurt put himself in this project with all of his heart, and Blaine was on the verge of tears.

Thankfully, the show did go on, and he managed to calm himself down as there were displays from young artists from California, Nevada, Arizona, Texas, North Carolina, kids that could not have been older than 25, all with a big dream in their hearts. Blaine was moved deeply, because he knew that he was that kid, he is that kid who is living his dream in the best possible way.

The show passed by in a blur, and Blaine was surprised that it finished so quickly, as he felt that he could sit there and watch forever.

“Blaine,” Sam said, and woke him up from his dreamlike state, “I saw Kurt, he was just walking there, backstage. I think you guys need to talk. I’ll go mingle with some of the models and artists, maybe someone needs my abs.”

“Okay, good luck, Sam,” Blaine whispered. He wished himself luck too. Indeed, he needed to talk to Kurt. He did not know what Kurt wanted to say to him by the means of this show, but he knew that Kurt won him over once again.

* * *

Kurt was nervous. He was pacing among the models and designers, congratulating everyone, looking sharp and smart, but his mind was elsewhere.

Someone told him that Blaine has indeed arrived, and was in the audience.

He wondered if Blaine liked the display, liked the show that Kurt has arranged particularly for him. Indeed, he did his best, and if Blaine was not impressed, then there was nothing left to do. He would give up.

He turned on his heels, and saw Blaine standing at the backstage entrance, unsure.

\- Hi, - Kurt said, suddenly shy.

\- Hi, - Blaine replied, his beautiful eyes shining bright.

And all of a sudden, Kurt knew that everything was going to be okay.

* * *

They were sitting in a cozy café near the venue. Kurt insisted on buying them coffee and dessert. God, did they need dessert.

“Uhm, so, did you like the show?” he asked Blaine tentatively.

“Kurt,” Blaine closed his eyes, smiled, “It was amazing. You know how much it means to me that the young designers get recognized and appreciated. I cannot believe you did all of this...”

Kurt smiled shyly too. It was nice to hear Blaine praising him. Actually, it was already nice enough to hear Blaine’s voice.

“For you,” he completed the sentence, looking at Blaine, at his sharp clothes, pristine haircut and long eyelashes. All of the pieces of Blaine that he has been missing so much.

“Blaine, I just want to tell you something,” Kurt took a deep breath, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for all the awful things that I put you through. I hope you can forgive me. I know it’s not a standard situation, when you, uhm, hire someone you met at a bar the previous night… I just, I thought I was more mature, but frankly I am very inexperienced in, well, everything like this.”

“You do not have to tell me all of this,” Blaine said, averting his eyes.

“No, but I really want to. And things were fine, and you were an amazing addition to the team. Your designs captivated me, and I liked you and I liked them, and you through them. It grew even more each passing day. And the way you just got me, got what I was thinking, just looking at me with those bright eyes… It was something amazing, and I was afraid. I’m sorry I freaked out over that stupid article and made you feel so uncomfortable, until you resigned. And I’m so sorry for what happened at the office, I just… Have no idea what that was. All week I felt like if I got near you with as much as a hello, everything would crumble. I guess I felt like you just needed me to ignore you. And the tension was growing, I thought about you every second of every day. I was angry at myself, at the world, and frustrated, and blind. I just needed to have you so much.”

“We both were,” Blaine said, his ears bright red.

There was light rain tapping at the window of the café. Kurt wanted to pause this moment, and look at this beautiful man in front of him, forever.

“Plus, you already have me. You always had me,” he added quietly.

Kurt’s heart swelled.

“So you’re giving me a chance to make everything right, from the start?’ he asked, hope spreading its wings in his chest.

“Yes,” Blaine said, and took ahold of Kurt’s hand, as if joining their worlds together once again, “A second chance.”


End file.
